


Katasharabi

by ThornyHedge



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:18:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge/pseuds/ThornyHedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbit Kink Meme Prompt Fill: </p><p>joblesswriter1 requested <em>Fíli defiled. I don't care how. Make it happen.</em> </p><p>I chose to go with the ultimate defiler of Middle Earth to accomplish this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Katasharabi

**Author's Note:**

> This is much darker than I normally write, and most of it is from Azog's point of view. I apologize in advance if it's awful in so many ways.
> 
> Obviously, none of this happened in “The Hobbit” book or film. I’m just playing in Tolkien’s playground.

Azog watches from atop a plateau of stone as his troops chase both Radagast and his rabbit-sledge and Thorin and his party across the plains in opposite directions. The plains are covered with faded green dried grass dotted with grey outcroppings of rock, and because of this, Golden One’s hair stands out like a beacon, streaming behind him as he flees, glinting in the mid-day sun. The ground is full of tiny hillocks and the Dwarves are struggling to make speed as they dash on foot away from their pursuers. 

The albino orc hears the Dwarves cry out in dismay as they are surrounded by wargs and orcs on three sides; he edges closer to watch what happens next. Thorin’s other nephew—the dark-haired Thorin look-alike—shoots with his bow, knocking several of his cavalry from their mounts, but those few arrows cannot stem the rising tide of death closing in on him and his companions.

Azog smiles as it unfolds. Then, the wizard appears from where he’d vanished behind a rocky alcove.

“This way, you fools!” he cries, and one by one the Dwarves head towards him and into the alcove, appearing to escape.

It is now or never, Azog decides, and makes his move. Predictably, Thorin’s heirs remain until last, sticking by his side and making sure their companions have reached safety. Azog urges his warg to sprint, and she does, across the plains in a blur of white, directly towards the retreating Dwarves.

The giant white orc does not miss the fearful widening of Thorin’s eyes as Azog speeds up behind the Golden One, whose back is turned while running for the safety of the alcove. Azog leans over and grabs the eldest heir by the collar of his coat, swinging him effortlessly up over the pommel of his saddle, face down. The Golden One loses one of his swords, but manages to keep his grip on the other. With a fierce cry, he raises the sword to plunge it into the throat of Azog’s beloved pet, but before he can accomplish the act, Azog slams his heavily-bracered fist into the back of the Golden One’s skull. Immediately, the sword clatters to the ground and his prisoner goes limp across the warg’s saddle.

“Nooo!” Azog hears Dark Heir cry out. “Fili!” Foolishly, he tries to rush forward, but Oakenshield holds him back by one arm. 

Only the two of them remain above ground and exposed. Azog rides closer, slowly, teasingly, letting them see what he has taken from them. In Black Speech, he orders his underlings to stand down. 

Then, in broken, but understandable Khuzdul, Azog tells Thorin and his nephew, “Zâtagrîfi kidhuzeluh.” _(I will take the Golden One, mine)_ Again, the younger heir starts forward angrily, but Thorin stills him.

“Katasharabi,” _(I will defile him)_ Azog continues menacingly, and Thorin’s eyes widen at the implications. “Tabadabi, mâli, mahkidhezi!” _(I will mount him, I will pleasure him… I will melt gold)_ he splays a large, pale, possessive hand over the Golden One’s back. 

The younger heir is sobbing angrily now, and Thorin puts a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, pulling him backwards towards the safety of the alcove.

Azog turns to leave with his prize, then turns his head to the Durins a final time, and adds. “Uggûni.” _(I will return him)._

The fearsome orc shouts something in Black Speech to his fellows, and digs his heels into the flanks of his mount. At breakneck speed, she bursts away across the plains with Azog and his prisoner. Behind him, Azog hears what sounds like an Elven horn and the clashing of weaponry. But it no longer concerns him. He rides on.

Azog travels for some time before arriving at the stone ruins, high on a hill, where he has been making camp. He is alone now with the Golden One, who has yet to regain consciousness. Azog climbs from his mount and stretches, scratching her affectionately under her muzzle. He knows she’s disappointed that the Golden One isn’t her dinner.

The white orc lifts the Golden One from her saddle and carries him over his shoulder to a fallen slab of stone, laying him out so he can get a good look at him. Attractive by Dwarven standards, he doesn’t resemble Thorin so much as he does the other, younger heir who’d died years earlier. 

Azog knows he doesn’t have much time before either the Elves come after him or his followers return, so he makes quick work of removing the Golden One’s clothing. He is truly a sight; and beauty is not something wasted on Azog the Defiler. The chill of the evening air against his exposed flesh rouses the blond. He groans, shivers, remembers. The prisoner opens his eyes to find Azog standing over him.

“I shall not kill you, Golden One,” Azog tells him in Khuzdul. “I will return you to your kin. But I shall return you… _defiled,_ ” he stresses.

The meaning of his words clearly frightens the blond Dwarf, who weakly pulls himself up on his elbows and attempts to scramble away backwards. Azog merely laughs at his escape attempt and reaches out with his large, meaty hand, grabbing him around the ankle, yanking him back into proximity. To make it clear what he is expecting of the Golden One, Azog unhooks his belt and lets his armored loincloth clatter to the earth. The blond’s blue eyes are huge with fear. 

Azog is twice the Dwarf’s size, and then some, and certainly he cannot fuck the Golden One without rending him, nor use his mouth without choking him to death. But he can go far enough to achieve his satisfaction and send a message to Thorin Oakenshield. _I can take from you whatever I wish, King Under the Mountain. I will break you, as I have broken this one._

He smiles coldly and spits into his hand.

\-------

Kili refuses to sleep; refuses the hospitality of Elrond's many well-appointed chambers. Instead, he chooses to spend the night on his bedroll near the entrance to the chasm where they’d entered Rivendell the previous day.

 _I will return him,_ Azog had told them. And Kili would be there when his brother returned. He felt he might die if Fili did not return.

At some point, he dozes off. When he awakes, sunlight is peeking between the clouds above and Thorin is sitting next to him, staring pensively into the dwindling campfire. Kili does not speak; he moves closer to his uncle, laying his head on his lap.

Then, they hear it; feet are shuffling down the corridor of rock—slow hesitant footsteps. Moments later, Fili appears. His clothing is gone, except for his long coat, which he clutches around himself to stave off the cold. At the sight of his family, he lets out a cry of relief and simply collapses to the hard ground.

“Fili!” Kili is at his brother’s side in seconds, but cannot decide where it’s safe to touch him. His hair is matted, caked with what can only be described as orc release. So is his chest, which also bears several shallow punctures, as if he were pinned down into submission by Azog’s clawed hand. But the worst of it is—Kili has to look away and take several deep breaths, steeling himself.

Fili is bleeding down the insides of his legs—old and fresh blood mingled with dried ejaculate. His thighs bear hand shaped bruises and the bottoms of his feet are cut and oozing from walking barefoot for who knows how long.

“H-He let me g-go,” Fili’s voice is hoarse, broken, and he reaches for Thorin and Kili’s hands. 

Thorin swoops in and picks him up as if he were still a toddler, and cradles Fili in his arms to carry him down to Rivendell for medical treatment. "Azog will pay for this, Fili," Thorin assures him.

**Author's Note:**

> Katasharabi = "I will defile."


End file.
